Title: Petals
Author: Ghosteye99
Fandom: Harry Potter
Main Characters: Neville Longbottom/Marietta Edgecombe
Word Count: 500
Theme: Drama/romance
Rating: PG 13
Summary: Post-war AU, Neville didn't choose his words carefully enough for a witch whose self-confidence was more than a little shaky.
Notes: This was written for a 500 word ficlet challenge (March madness challenge, Prompt: #6 - public quarrel) for the romancing the wizard LJ community back in'06 (before Deathly Hallows was released), under an old username. Thanks to morganlefay1958, sscrewdriver and seaislewitch for the beta.
Disclaimer: Characters and setting belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. No profit or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.
Petals
"Marietta! …Marietta!"
A young witch with fair, curly hair shouldered her way through the afternoon shoppers along Diagon Alley, doing her best to ignore the shouts of the wizard who was trying to keep up with her.
"Please! I didn't mean it that way. Marietta, please stop!"
Marietta, the witch in question, stopped and turned to face him.
"Oh, I am quite sure I heard it right!" she hissed. "You just wanted me because you thought I was the only witch a loser like you had a chance with. Well, Mister Longbottom, I think I can do a lot better for myself than put up with being a Miss Last Resort for someone like you!"
The wizard, Neville Longbottom, did not stop running. "Please listen to me! That wasn't the way I meant it, and you know it," he huffed, "Marietta!"
But Marietta Edgecombe swung around on her boot heel and marched off through the crowd in a flurry of sapphire blue robes. She made easy headway through the crowd, while Neville, who could not keep himself from stumbling and running into people, soon fell behind.
It was just as well, for people were beginning to stare, and if there was one thing she hated, it was scenes… especially public ones.
Marietta kept on walking away from the turning heads, pulling the hood of her robes farther forward, so that no one would see the tear about to escape from the corner of her eye. Neville's voice and footsteps were sounding fainter. She thought she heard a muttered oath that sounded suspiciously like Professor Snape, followed by a hasty "sorry, sir" from Neville.
If she kept up her pace and turned the corner just up there, by the blossoming cherry tree, she would lose him... and good riddance.
When Marietta had safely reached the side street, she found a little alleyway between two shops to duck into. She waited, listening for signs of Neville's passing, but heard nothing. Hopefully, the idiot finally had managed to get himself lost.
She wiped her face with the sleeve of her robe, hardly caring about smudging the thick white makeup covering that word. The word that had stayed etched across her face since her schooldays, courtesy of a jinx by Madam Granger, because of some stupid contract she had broken: 'SNEAK'.
Another tear came, snaking down between the pimples that made up the 'A'. A little eddy of wind blew a smattering of cherry petals past the alleyway, causing her to startle when she felt one touch her cheek.
But... it wasn't a cherry blossom; it was Neville's fingertips.
"When I said we were lucky to have each other," he whispered, gently picking the petal off the 'K', "all I meant was that it's not always easy to find someone nice, nothing more."
"Nothing more?" Marietta replied sceptically.
"Nothing more," Neville said. "C'mon, there's a new tea shop opened just a couple of doors down. I'd been wanting to take you there for ages."
